


Sing About Tragedy

by prescellphone



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fight Club AU, Love, New York New York, gallya, i love bloody guys, so i couldnt resist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prescellphone/pseuds/prescellphone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby has watched her neighbor come home beaten half to death for months, and she finally decides to confront him about it (fight club au)</p><p>Music: Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes and What a Catch, Donnie by Fall Out Boy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

       

       2:54 am.

       Gaby crossed her arms after glancing at the clock on the wall.

       He was almost an hour late. Maybe he finally got hit so hard he couldn’t get back up.

       Shaking her head, Gaby’s idea quickly dissipated when she heard the familiar creaks on the ancient stairs in her apartment building. Turning around, she peeked out the small hole in her door to the apartment across from hers. The shuffling in the stairwell grew louder until a hunched figure appeared on the small landing.

       Her neighbor was tall, but it was hard to tell as he cradled his ribs. Even in the dim light, Gaby could see the bruises and cuts disfiguring his face, the blood caked into his knuckles, the ever growing exhaustion under his eyes.

       Ever since Gaby had moved in four months ago, she had watched him come home late at night, beaten to a pulp but with a wad of cash in his pockets. The first night she saw him in bad shape, she had nearly called the police but stopped when he unlocked the door across from hers and stumbled into his apartment.

       The next morning, she had run into him as she left for work. He was cleaned up, stitches across a cheek, and wearing a perfect suit. When he said good morning to her in his Russian accent, she had choked on her words before replying.

       Gaby still wasn’t sure which version of him was the real one. She wanted to believe it was the polite man in the suit, but she was positive that he went out in the dead of night because he couldn’t help himself.

       For some reason, this fascinated Gaby and she had been watching ever since, this night being no different.

       Taking a deep breath, Gaby was turning to her bedroom when she heard a loud thump outside. Rushing back to her door, she looked out the peephole and saw her neighbor lying on the floor outside his apartment.

       Gaby chewed on her lip before unlocking her door hastily. Flying out of her apartment, she was at his side in a second.

       Her hands shook as she knelt beside him, “Hey, are you okay?”

       Groaning, he responded with eyes shut, “Fine. Just fell.”

       Gaby rolled her eyes, “You really think I would buy that?”

       “It’s okay,” his voice was deep and tired.

        Observing the wounds covering his face, Gaby sighed before pulling his arm over her shoulder.

       “No, stop, I’m fine,” he spoke the words through gritted teeth.

       “Like hell you are. Where are your keys?”

       Weakly, he motioned to the pocket in his leather jacket.

       Reaching into the pocket, Gaby quickly pulled out the keys and held them tight in her fist as she helped him to stand. Once he was on his feet, she moved him forward and unlocked the door.

       Taking his arm back, he stumbled into his apartment and gently fell onto the couch in his living room.

       Gaby placed his keys on the kitchen counter and turned on the light, casting a shadow on all of his bruises. Crossing her arms, she watched him breathe heavily on the couch.

       “Thank you,” he muttered.

       Gaby shrugged before taking a seat on the table in front of the couch, “Eh, what are neighbors for, right?”

       He chuckled but immediately winced and grabbed his chest.

      “Broken ribs, some cuts that need stitches, and possibly a concussion,” Gaby listed them all easily.

       He paused in his movements before looking over at her. Gaby’s heart jumped at how blue his eyes were.

      “Are you a doctor?”

       Gaby scoffed, “God no. My mother was. She taught me quite a bit before she passed.”

       She watched as his jaw moved before he spoke, “What’s your name?”

      “Gaby.”

       He nodded, “I’m Illya.”

       Tucking her hair behind her ear, Gaby smirked before leaning forward and glancing at a cut above his eyebrow.

       “You seriously need stitches.”

       Illya sat up, grunting, “There’s a bag in my bathroom.”

       “Got it,” Gaby followed his instructions to the bathroom and carried a black bag back out him.

       Smacking Illya’s hands away, Gaby dug around in the bag until she found the items she needed.

       “I can do it,” Illya spoke softly.

       “I’m sure you can. I’ve watched you come home since I got here.”

       He hummed in reply as Gaby wet a cloth with alcohol. He flinched when she began dabbing his face, but after a few seconds, he stilled.

       Pulling out the needle for stitches, Gaby glanced at Illya, “You might need something for this.”

       “Scotch. Above the fridge,” he motioned to the kitchen.

       Standing, Gaby grabbed the bottle and set it in his lap. Unscrewing the cap, he took a swig before Gaby took it from him and followed in his lead.

       Raising his eyebrow, Illya smirked, “Nervous?”

       Gaby shook her head, “Steadies the hands.”

       Moving her legs in between his knees, Gaby took a deep breath before beginning the stitches. Illya’s strained grunts lowered slowly as she made quick work of the cut.

       Snipping off the last stitch, Gaby leaned back and watched as Illya opened his eyes. She caught the ghost of a smile before he stood up uncomfortably.

      “Your ribs,” Gaby muttered.

      “Thank you,” he repeated.

       Illya staggered to his front door and opened it. Gaby sighed before moving past him into the hallway.

       She turned before he shut the door, “Did you win?”

       Illya’s expression was soft, “Yes.”

       Gaby frowned, “Hate to see the shape you’ll be in when you lose.”

 

       After the incident (as Gaby began to call it), she didn’t see Illya for quite a few days. She knew it was most likely that he was trying to heal up, but it still bummed her out when he didn’t return home in the middle of the night. He had been a nice distraction from her insistent insomnia.

      Two weeks later, Gaby began to worry. It was completely possible that he had died while out fighting, or whatever he did while he was out. She would never know. It was truly beginning to bother her.

      Waiting a few more days, Gaby finally gave in and found herself standing outside his apartment in the early morning.

      Biting her lip, she knocked twice. There was no answer.

      Knocking a little louder, Gaby stammered, “Illya? It’s Gaby. If you’re dead in there, just tell me so I can stop thinking about how I will explain it to the police.”

      Still no reply.

      It was possible he wasn’t home. But at the same time, Gaby hadn’t seen anyone leave the apartment for quite some time.

      With a deep breath, Gaby tried the door knob and found it to be unlocked. She opened the door slowly, revealing a silent and dark apartment. She was about to step back into the hallway when she heard a noise coming from the bathroom.

      “Illya?” Gaby questioned as she moved towards the bathroom.

      Trailing her hand along the wall in the pitch dark, Gaby reached the small room and fumbled for the light switch. Flicking it on, she gasped when the light illuminated the blood smeared across the floor and the dark splotches leading to Illya’s body lying in the middle of the room.

       Panicking, Gaby didn’t care about the blood staining her work clothes as she knelt beside him.

      “Shit, Illya,” Gaby muttered as she pressed her fingers to his neck and felt a weak pulse.

       Following the blood to a wound on his side, Gaby leaned closer and barely touched the bloody injury.

       Illya flinched awake and Gaby jumped, her hand pulled back.

      “Fuck,” Gaby sighed, “Illya? Do you have a death wish or something?”

       Moving his arms, Illya groaned painfully, “Gaby?”

      “Who else?”

      “You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled.

      “Oh please, save yourself the trouble and stop talking.”

       Gaby felt her frustration rise as she helped him onto his side. Illya cried out as she lifted his shirt to unveil the deep injury by his ribs.

      “Please don’t tell me this is from a knife,” Gaby glared at Illya’s wincing face.

        He opened one eye, “I can’t.”

       “Jesus fuck. I don’t know what you do, but I can tell you that no amount of money is worth bleeding out on your bathroom floor.”

        Illya didn’t reply. Gaby groaned angrily before finding the same bag she used last time. Not even caring to pull out a clean towel, she simply poured the rubbing alcohol onto the cut.

        Shouting, Illya squirmed as Gaby wiped off the dried blood and examined the wound.

       “Looks clean,” Gaby commented.

        Illya barely opened his eyes to glare at her, “No shit.”

        Gaby shrugged before continuing her work on the injury.

        Time passed and Gaby had just finished up when her phone began to ring.

        Wiping her hands on Illya’s shirt, Gaby glanced at the caller ID and felt her stomach drop at the number. It was almost ten in the morning, meaning she was late for work.

        Illya watched her ignore the call, “You should take that. I’m fine.”

        Gaby shook her head, she had made her decision, “No. I’d rather miss work than explain to the police why you’re dead and I’m covered in your blood.”

        “You can’t miss work because of me-”

        “Stop, Illya.”

         Illya snapped his mouth close and looked up at the ceiling.

         Gaby felt something tug at her heart before she spoke, “You have been leaving, but I haven’t seen you go for weeks now.”

         Illya swallowed, “I use the fire escape.”

         Gaby’s mouth dropped open, “You’ve deliberately been avoiding me?”

         “I didn’t want you to get involved.”

         “Involved? I’m not allowed to help my neighbor from dying?”

         Illya turned to look at her, “It’s different. I’m no good for you.”

         Gaby clenched her fists before standing, “You can’t decide what’s good or bad for me. Don’t question me again, I’ve already made up my mind.”

         Reaching down, Gaby helped a whining Illya into a sitting position before pulling him to his feet. Half dragging, half stumbling, Gaby led him to the couch and let him fall back onto it.

         Untying his shoes, Gaby ignored Illya’s mumbles about not needing help. She grabbed a glass of water and placed it on the table.

         Taking a seat next to the glass, Gaby smiled at Illya, “I say we make a deal. From now on you come to me if you’re in bad shape and I will promise to not stop you from doing whatever you’re doing.”

         Illya grinned sadly before nodding, “Deal.”

 

        True to his word, Illya showed up at her door in the dead of night a few nights later. And then nights after that. It was always the same routine. Gaby scolding him for getting so beat up, Illya smirking with bloody lips, and both of them growing used to each other’s company.

        Soon, Illya was no longer knocking but just letting himself into her apartment and stumbling to Gaby’s bedroom, where he found her wide awake most of the time.

       There was one instance when he came in, coughing up blood, and Gaby had been sound asleep. He had turned away but had only made it two steps before Gaby had woken up. He had received the longest lecture ever as she bandaged him up. Despite her nasty words, Illya hadn’t missed how soft her hands were as she worked. Her ever awareness of the pain she was putting him through as she stitched him back together. When she finished her work that night, Illya had wished she hadn’t removed her hands. He had lied awake the rest of the night, his thoughts swimming around her sharp words, gentle eyes, dark hair, and striped pajamas. 

 

       Gaby had grown used to the nightly visits of Illya, so she was shocked when there were knocks at her door earlier than when he usually showed up one night.

      “You know you can let yourself in, right?” Gaby said as she moved to the door.

       Opening it, Gaby choked on her words at the sight of an unconscious Illya being carried by another man.

       The man smiled, his lip bloody and eye swollen, “You must be Gaby?”

      “Who the hell are you?” Gaby stepped back, her hand reaching for the pepper spray sitting in her purse a foot away.

      “Napoleon, I’m one of Illya’s friends,” he shifted Illya on his shoulder.

      “How do I know you’re not just making that up?”

       Gaby had her hand around the pepper spray when Illya groaned. Feeling her heart rise into her throat, she let go of the spray and moved aside.

      “Put him on the couch,” she ordered Napoleon.

      “Yes ma’am,” Napoleon responded as he dragged Illya into the apartment and onto the couch.

       Shutting the front door, Gaby immediately rushed to Illya’s side and began her usual checks. She didn’t find anything but new bruises layering his body.

       Sitting back, Gaby let out a breath before turning to Napoleon. He was dabbing at a cut along his arm, acting like it was perfectly normal to be in Gaby’s apartment.

       “So you’re a friend of Illya’s?”

       Napoleon looked up, “Yes. We fight together.”

       “And you knew about me, how?”

       He laughed, “He talks about you, of course. I understand why now.”

       Gaby blushed, “You talk about me in between beating the shit out of each other?”

       “We don’t only fight. I’ve known him for years. Even before all this mess. And we don’t fight each other. I fought him one time and I still have the scars from it. We just watch out for each other.”

       “So what _do_ you guys do?”

       Napoleon smirked, “We’re not supposed to talk about it, but I’m sure you won’t leave me alone until I tell you. It’s an underground…uh…club? I guess that’s the best word for it. It’s a bunch of people who gather together and fight. We also bet on the current fight. I’ve only see Illya lose once so I’m sure he’s bringing in the money. But at the same time, I know he doesn’t do it for the money. I personally do it for the women.”

       Gaby scoffed, “Women?”

       “Women love men who can take a punch,” Napoleon chuckled lightly before becoming serious again, “I mean, isn’t that why you like Illya?”

       Gaby huffed out a breath, “I don’t like…I don’t think those women have every seen the aftermath of a fight. It’s not all cool scars and flexed muscles.”

       “You got that right,” Napoleon wrapped a bandage around his arm before sitting back in the armchair.

       Gaby turned back to look at Illya. She wasn’t sure why she was so interested in him. Maybe it was the fact that he came back with bruises and and cracked ribs, but his hands were always kind. Gaby still couldn’t admit to herself that she was interested at all.

       “Thank you,” she muttered.

       Nodding his head, Napoleon watched Gaby brush her fingers across Illya’s knuckles.

       “You’re good for him,” Napoleon grinned when Gaby whipped around to look at him, “He fights less now. And when he does fight, he doesn’t recklessly throw himself around. I’ve been trying to calm him for years, but I guess I don’t have the right touch.”

       Gaby thought over his words before saying softly, “He didn’t want me to get involved.”

       Napoleon stood up, “You probably shouldn’t. But I can tell that you don’t listen to instructions very well, so I’ll just tell you to be careful. We’re fucked up people.”

       Gaby smirked, “Thank you Napoleon.”

       He shrugged, “Do you mind if I stay here tonight? I’m exhausted.”

       “Yeah, you can use my bed.”

       Gaby pointed to her room and Napoleon thanked her before leaving the room.

       Turning back to Illya, Gaby jumped when she saw that he was awake. Moaning, Illya sat up slowly as Gaby moved to sit next to him on the couch.

       “Easy,” Gaby whispered, her hands gentle on his chest.

       “What do you think of Napoleon?” Illya smirked.

       “Handsome.”

       Illya gave her look and Gaby chuckled.

       “I’m kidding. He’s nice.”

       Illya nodded, “You’re a girl, of course he’s nice to you.”

       Gaby grew serious, “He cares for you.”

       “Yeah, yeah,” Illya waved his hand dismissively.

       They sat in silence as Gaby watched him run a hand through his messy blonde hair.

       Swallowing her nervousness, Gaby whispered, “You scared me tonight.”

       Illya froze and turned to look at her. He wasn’t sure if her hand could feel his heart, but it felt like it was going to leap out of his chest at any second.

       “Sorry,” Illya murmured.  

       Gaby slowly lifted her hands to his neck and ignored the warning in her heart.

       Illya turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern, “Gaby.”

       Leaning closer, Gaby stopped a couple inches from his bruised face and watched his eyes flick down to her mouth and back up. She closed the gap quickly, her lips soft against his bloody ones.

       It took him a second before he moved against her mouth, his hands cradling her face as she pressed closer to him.

       It felt like an eternity when he pulled away and muttered with his eyes shut, “This isn’t a good idea.”

       Kissing him softly, Gaby whispered back, “I don’t care.”

       Hesitating, Illya watched Gaby lick her lips, his blood smeared across her mouth before returning her kisses.

       This was going to destroy them both.

 

       Their routine changed slightly from then on. Instead of shuffling back to his apartment, Illya now crawled into the bed with Gaby and if he didn’t pass out from loss of blood, he would make broken love to her.

       Her hands and sheets were stained with his blood. Her shower washing away the dirt covering him as he kissed her under the water. Her pillows smelling of his cologne and her sweet shampoo. His perfect suit for work hanging in her closet.

       Illya didn’t realize how close he had grown to her until they were lying awake together late one night.

       It was one of the nights where he had been beaten senseless and had returned to Gaby with cracked ribs and blood leaking from his mouth. She had patched him up the best she could before they nestled under the sheets together.

       Gaby was lying on her side watching him when she spoke, “Have you ever thought about quitting?”

       Illya winced as he turned to look at her. He could see the worry in her eyes, even though she tried to cover it up. There was something else there as well, something more than the comfort of having another person in bed with you. Something that made Illya want to wake up to Gaby every morning, without bloody knuckles and concerned looks.

       Illya replied before thinking, “Yes.”

       “Why don’t you?”

       Illya knew the question was eventually going to come up. Instead of answering, he shrugged.

       “You can’t help yourself,” Gaby said the words quietly, her eyes following her fingers trailing up and down his arm.

       Illya frowned as he pulled her close. He kissed her fiercely.

       It was time.

 

       A week later, Illya returned to Gaby early in the night without any wounds. She didn’t question it when he immediately pulled her into his arms and kissed her until they were heaving for air.

       With their hands entwined, they memorized each other’s bodies, each breath taken shared with the other.

       By the middle of the night, Gaby was exhausted as she spread herself across Illya. He ran his hands through her hair, always stopping to twirl the dark ends before beginning again.

       Gaby’s eyes grew heavier with each kiss he pressed to her forehead. His hands continued to swirl soothingly in her hair as she fell asleep, her last memory being a whispered apology into her ear.

 

       The next morning when Gaby awoke, the apartment was silent and all traces that Illya had ever been there were gone. His clothes and bloody bandages gone. The only thing hinting at his presence was the scent of his cologne and his blood underneath her fingernails.

       Feeling her heart drop, Gaby leaped to her feet and ran out her front door to Illya’s apartment. Knocking rapidly, she only waited a second before turning the knob and stepping into his apartment.

       Catching her breath, Gaby froze at the sight of the deserted apartment. Nothing was left behind, not even the blood stains from that dreadful night in the bathroom.

       Stepping into the middle of the empty living room, Gaby let a tear slide down her cheek before clenching her fists.

       Wiping her eyes, Gaby left the apartment quietly, and by the time the door was shut behind her, she had buried her heart deep enough to never find it again.

 

 


	2. These Arms Are Growing Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaby is trying to move on, but it's impossible when everything reminds her of him
> 
> Music: Duet by Racheal Yamagata and Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by John Mayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked to do another chapter on this au and I couldn't help myself. This is definitely the last one despite how much I loved writing Gaby and Illya in modern New York.

 

* * *

 

       It was late in summer when Gaby thought about Illya again. 

       She had been walking home after work when she passed an alley. Glancing into the narrow area, she paused after seeing a figure lying on the ground.

       Ignoring her better judgment, she moved toward the body and found a man beaten half to death. The scent of blood was heavy in the air and the man had similar wounds, Gaby remembered it too well.

       Kneeling down, Gaby asked, "Are you okay? Do you need me to call somebody?"

       The man grunted in response.

       “That doesn’t really help,” Gaby sighed as she searched his pockets for a phone.

        Finding one in his front pocket, Gaby pulled it out and began to flip through the contacts when the man smacked the phone out of her hands.

        “No phone calls,” he rasped out.

        “You’re about to bleed out in an alley!” Gaby shouted angrily.

        The man sat up, “I told my wife I would stop.”

        Gaby shifted on her feet, “You’re one of those fight club guys, huh?”

        The man’s eyes were wide as he nodded, “I can’t go home like this.”

        Gaby felt buried anger rise into her throat, “Get over yourself. You men are so fucking selfish. Next time you get beaten to death, try to remember that your wife is waiting at home.”

        Standing up, Gaby pushed the man down as she picked up his cellphone. She dialed 911 rapidly and ignored the man as he struggled to stand.

        After telling them their location and situation, Gaby hung up and tossed the phone back to the man.

        "Get a fucking life and stop going to those fight club things.”

        Gaby frowned down at him before she walked away, her thoughts on Illya. She was turning towards home again when she paused. Across the street was a large sign advertising a local gym below it.

        Shifting her bag on her shoulder, Gaby crossed the street and found herself walking through the doors before she could think everything through.

        Inside, the air was thick and stuffy and all Gaby could smell was sweat and warm rubber. She paused at the door and watched two men boxing in a raised ring in the middle of the large room. Younger boys stood around the ring, watching the fight or punching bags hanging from the ceiling.

       Gaby felt her heart climb into her throat when a boy finally noticed her and his gloved hands dropped to his sides. Slowly, the rest of the men in the gym paused in whatever they were doing and stared at Gaby. The silence was deafening.

       Feeling flustered, Gaby was about to speak when an older man stepped out of the small office in the corner of the gym.

       “What’s going on?”

       The man followed the eyes of the boys to Gaby, who fidgeted in her work clothes. Her waitress apron and skirt were probably not normally seen in the gym.

       “What do you want?” The man asked bluntly.

        Shocked by his English accent, Gaby stuttered her words, “I-I want to learn how to fight.”

        With a smirk, the man scoffed and turned back into the office. The men continued on with their fight in the ring and the others returned to what they were doing.

        Embarrassed, Gaby made her way to the office, avoiding the boys’ stares. She let herself in and found the man sitting behind a very messy desk. A name card read, Waverly.

       “Save yourself the trouble and go home,” Waverly waved his hand disinterestedly.

        Gaby sucked in a breath, “No, I want to learn how to fight.”

        He glanced at her, “Look here, I don’t train girls. I especially don’t train skinny girls who just want to impress their boyfriends. This is an actual gym. I train legit boxers. This isn’t some booty boot camp. Now get out of my sight.”

        Gaby’s recently ever present anger rose quickly. Slamming her hand down on his desk, Gaby tried to make her small body look as big as she could get it.

        “I’m tired of men telling me what I can and can’t do. You judged me the moment you saw me, but I can guarantee you that there is more to me than you think. Now, I want to learn how to fight and I am not leaving here until you agree to train me.”

        Waverly squinted his eyes and folded his hands on the desk. Gaby stood up straight, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

        Sighing, he asked, “Why?”

        Gaby was surprised by the question, “Why what?”

        “Why do you want to learn?”

         Chewing her cheek, Gaby shifted, “I-I’m not sure.”

         “Yes you do,” Waverly raised an eyebrow.

        Gaby thought of Illya and the anger and hurt swirling in her stomach. The nights when tears soaked her pillow and the day an older woman moved into Illya’s apartment. How boring her life seemed now.

        Taking a deep breath, Gaby replied, “I just do.”

        Waverly barked out a laugh before standing.

       He looked over her once before mumbling, “Well, it’ll be a nice challenge. Fine, I’ll train you but it’s not going to be easy.”

       Gaby smiled, “Thank you so much, I don’t-”

       Waverly cut her off, “Be here at 6 am tomorrow morning. Wear something a little more appropriate.”

       With a sharp nod, Gaby held out her hand and Waverly shook it strongly.

       Thanking him again, Gaby made her way out of the gym and this time, she smirked at the boys staring at her.

 

       “Get up!” Waverly shouted, his English accent even more pronounced than usual.

       Gaby’s ears rang as she struggled to sit up.

       “Come on Gaby!”

       It was 2 months later and Gaby was finally allowed to get into the ring and spar. Placed against one of the younger boys, she was able to last a few minutes before the boy landed multiple punches, placing her on the ground. The last uppercut hit her perfectly and Gaby wondered if she had made a mistake by deciding to learn to fight.

       But then she thought of Illya’s bloody lips and bruised hands and how helpless she felt while lying in bed with him. At least when she landed a punch, that helplessness disappeared for a second.

       “Told you she wasn’t ready,” one of the boys muttered lowly.

       Gritting her teeth, Gaby pushed herself back onto her feet and swayed before catching herself on the rope.

       Steadying her feet, Gaby lifted her fists and faced the boy in the ring with her. His face was shocked as she moved towards him.

       Despite her stubbornness, Gaby found herself on the ground again and this time, she didn’t move to get back up.

 

       After multiple gulps of water and ice packs placed to her head, Gaby was packing her gym things up for the day when she overheard some of the men talking.

       “It’s tonight at that old theater down on 36th.”

       “I don’t know if I’ll go. I went to work after last time and my boss flipped shit. Also, Waverly told us he wouldn’t train us if we joined.”

       “Come on, what Waverly doesn’t know, won’t kill him. Plus, I’ve heard the Red Peril is fighting tonight.”

       “Red Peril? Who’s that?”

       “Oh you know, the tall Russian…”

       Gaby paused in her movements, her heart beating faster. Illya was fighting tonight. And she knew how to get there. She could see him again. Gaby wasn’t sure if the thought was relieving or it made her ache more.

       She was about to question the men about it when Waverly stepped over to her, his chest blocking the men from view.

       “Nice fighting today,” he spoke calmly.

       Gaby tried to sort her thoughts, “Don’t lie. I was complete shit.”

       Waverly shrugged before sitting on the bench in front of her, “I don’t think so. You’re figuring out how to use your height to your advantage. And you sure know how to take a hit.”

       “I don’t want to learn how to take a hit,” Gaby replied grumpily.

       “What do you want?”

       Gaby glared at Waverly, “You’ve asked me that before.”

       “And I never got a straight answer,” Waverly paused as he shifted on the bench, “You know I’ve heard your name before.”

       “Gaby? There’s at least a million Gabys in New York. I’m sure you’ve heard it before,” Gaby rolled her eyes as she placed her bag over her shoulder.

       “No, I know it’s you because I’ve heard someone speak of a waitress named Gaby who lives a couple blocks away in a beat up apartment.”

       Gaby froze and turned to face him, “Who was it?”

       Waverly spoke quietly, “One of my old students. You should’ve heard him talk about you, he was completely taken.”

       Leaning forward, Gaby huffed out, “Name?”

       Shaking his head, Waverly didn’t respond but stood up and began to walk away.

       “Waverly!” Gaby’s hands shook.

       “Good night Gaby,” Waverly didn’t look back as he shut his office door behind him.

 

       Later that night, Gaby was sitting at the desk in her room and trying to read the book in front of her.

       Realizing she had been rereading the same page for five minutes, she stood up and paced her room.

       The clock read 12:23.

       Gaby chewed on her lip. If she left right now, she would be at the deserted theater in a half hour. Possibly see Illya again.  

       Deciding easily, Gaby changed her clothes and was out the door quickly. She ran to the subway and while waiting for her stop, she fidgeted in her seat impatiently.

       After stepping back onto the streets, Gaby couldn’t help thinking how bad of an idea this was.

       Once the theater was in view, Gaby’s footsteps quickened until she reached a door that had its lock broken on it. Sliding into the building, Gaby could hear loud cheers and she followed the sound to stairs leading into the basement.

       At the door to the main room, two men stood and they smiled as Gaby walked up to them.

       “What the hell are you doing here?” One of the men asked.

       Gaby swallowed, “I just want to watch.”

       They both laughed before the other man answered, “Everyone fights and everyone bets. You can’t just watch.”

       “Look I know someone in there and-”

       “See here girl, you either fight or you leave,” the man crossed his arms.

       Gaby shut her eyes briefly, “Fine, I’ll fight.”

       The men laughed hysterically as they stepped aside and Gaby walked into the crowded room. She was immediately surrounded by men who were cheering, some of their faces already bruised and bloody.

       Pushing to the man standing by a chalkboard with names across it, Gaby shouted, “I’m here for a fight. My name is Gaby.”

       “Alright, you’ll be up next against Vinciguerra.”

       Gaby was thankful that the man didn’t question her as he wrote her name on the board.

       Scanning the faces in the crowd, Gaby searched for one that would be taller than the rest. She had just made eye contact with one of the men from the gym earlier when the cheers reached a deafening roar as the current fight ended.

       Gaby moved to the center where the men had created a ring around an unconscious man and another one, bloody but victorious. A couple of men removed the unconscious man from the ring and her name and Vinciguerra were shouted. A tall man with a mustache stepped into the ring, his face smug.

       Gulping, Gaby pushed to the opening as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. The men quieted as she stepped into the clearing.

       One of the men from the gym grabbed Gaby’s arm, “Gaby, don’t do this. He could kill you.”

       Gaby yanked her arm away, “I’ll be fine. Are there any rules?”

       The man shook his head, “Just one, if your opponent surrenders then you have to stop.”

       Gaby nodded as she removed her shirt, her green sports bra bright in the dull basement.

       Vinciguerra rolled his eyes, “I’m not fighting a girl.”

       Watching as Vinciguerra turned his back to her, Gaby felt her fury rise before she ran at him.

       He barely was turned around when Gaby lofted a punch and hit him square in the jaw. Gaby scarcely registered the sound of applause as she sent another one into his stomach. Without her gloves, the hits sent shocks up her arm and she felt her knuckles shift. She was thinking about her next move when Vinciguerra gathered his bearings and he caught her fist.

       Smiling, he twisted her arm, making Gaby cry out. With his other hand, he sent a swift hit to Gaby’s cheek.

       Gaby nearly dropped from the pain. She hadn’t been hit without gear yet at the gym.

       Trying to think, Gaby kicked back against Vinciguerra before he landed his next hit. She fell to the floor and quickly scrambled to her feet, but he was there in an instant. Gaby threw up her hands to block as she was trained, but instead, Vinciguerra grabbed her waist and heaved her onto the floor. Crawling over her, he pinned her hands before beating her.

       Gaby felt and heard her nose break as she struggled to release her hands. She tasted the blood filling her mouth and in her frenzied state, she lifted her knee and slammed it into Vinciguerra’s crotch. He fell over onto his side and Gaby rapidly moved on top of him.

       Watching her blood drip onto his face, Gaby smashed her fists into him and tried to ignore the pain in her face and hands.

       She had successfully given him two black eyes when Vinciguerra grabbed her and threw her off of him.

       Rolling away, Gaby’s arms shook as she tried to stand. Vinciguerra looked pissed as he moved to her and sent a kick to her ribs. Lifting her by the strap of her bra, he nailed her jaw with another punch. Gaby could taste dirt in her mouth as he kicked her again and she spit up blood.

       “Surrender!” Vinciguerra shouted angrily.

       Gaby shook her head, her ears ringing loudly. Over the cheers, she could barely make out her name being yelled.

       After another kick, Gaby cradled her ribs and she pushed herself to her feet with the other arm.

       Vinciguerra scowled as the crowd applauded. Gaby felt her heart shatter. If Illya was truly was present tonight, then he would be by her side by now. Obviously he either wasn’t here, or he didn’t care. Gaby didn’t know which was worse at the moment.

       “You don’t know when to quit,” Vinciguerra ran a hand through his hair before rushing at Gaby.

       Gaby dodged the first punch, but the second one hit her in her hurt ribs. Falling to the ground again, she felt her consciousness slip as he punched her again.

       Right as she was about to close her eyes, Gaby watched as a figure jumped in and threw Vinciguerra off of her.

       “She surrenders!” The man yelled before kneeling down and lifting Gaby into his arms.

       Vinciguerra scoffed, “She has to surrender, not some one else for her.”

       Gaby recognized the voice as he responded, “She’s been done for a while now, Vinciguerra. Plus, it isn’t a fair fight when she’s already half dead.”

       “Next time, it’s you and me, Solo,” Vinciguerra growled.

       “You can bet that I will be back to kick your ass,” Napoleon snapped back, his arms shaking as he turned away with Gaby.

       No one spoke as he carried Gaby out of the basement and out into the night. Gaby relaxed into his grip, burying her face into his shoulder, before she lost all consciousness.

 

       When Gaby woke, she was on a couch in a foreign room. She whined at the throbbing in her ribs as she shifted slightly. She glanced at the water glass sitting on the table next to her, and she was reaching for it when a door opened behind her.

       “Ah, you’re awake.”

       Gaby closed her eyes and sighed, “Napoleon.”

       Turning on a light, Napoleon moved to Gaby’s side and handed her the water.

       Napoleon watched her drink before saying, “So either you’re really stupid or…never mind, you must just be really stupid.”

       Gaby swallowed, “I just…”

       “Illya wasn’t there last night. He was held up at work,” Napoleon stood up and moved to a cabinet in the corner of the room. Pulling out a scotch bottle, he poured himself a glass.

       “I’ve been learning how to fight,” Gaby muttered.

       Napoleon looked over his shoulder at her, “Really?”

       Gaby suddenly remembered the conversation with Waverly, “Hey, did Illya ever train with a guy named Waverly?”

       Napoleon grinned out the window, “Oh yeah, we both did. Those were good days. Now that’s my type of fighting. Rules and gloves. Waverly let us go after he found out about the fight club. Illya was always damn good at boxing but he needed something more.”

       Napoleon lost his smile, “I don’t know what happened. I came into the gym one day and Illya was beaten to shit and Waverly threw us out immediately. That was around the time he left you…”

       Gaby felt the usual tightening in her chest that had become a constant companion since Illya had left. The aching pain in her ribs didn’t help as tears slid down Gaby’s cheeks and mixed with the blood covering her chin.

       Turning back around, Napoleon frowned and set his glass down before moving to Gaby.

       “I’m sorry,” Napoleon muttered as Gaby choked on her sobs.

       “Don’t fucking say it,” Gaby heaved.

       Napoleon sent her an apologetic look, “Gaby-”

       Gaby struggled to sit up, ignoring Napoleon’s warnings.

       “I’m tired of hearing I’m sorry and never getting shit from anyone. You’re not sorry, none of you are.”

       Gaby made it onto her feet before Napoleon placed a hand on her shoulder.

       Smacking his hand away, she began to shuffle over to the front door, “Leave me alone.”

       Napoleon growled, “Leave _you_ alone? Why the fuck were you at the fights last night?”

       Gaby paused, “To fight.”

       “Bull shit, Gaby. You came looking for Illya. We’ve left you alone. You’re the one who needs to get over it!”

       Feeling hot tears drop off her chin, Gaby shouted, “Get over it?! He’s the one that led me on and then left! He’s the one that broke my heart and acted like it was nothing!”

       Regretting his words, Napoleon shushed her, “It wasn’t like that-”

       Gaby hissed back, “Oh go fuck yourself, Napoleon.”

       She left his apartment as quick as she could and slammed the door shut behind her. She had reached the elevator when she heard Napoleon yelling for her. The elevator doors were closing behind her when Napoleon finally came into view. Wiping away her tears, Gaby let the doors shut as he rushed to reach her.

       She calmed her breathing in the silent elevator before stumbling out and hailing a taxi in the early morning light. Giving her home address to the driver, she looked back as he pulled away from the curb. Napoleon stood at the front doors of the building, his chest heaving from running down the stairs. Gaby turned away and decided to forget the night all together.

 

       Forgetting was harder than she thought. The next morning, Gaby cried out in pain as she showered and dressed herself for work, careful to avoid the bruises around her ribs. Using concealer and foundation to the best of her abilities, Gaby got her black eyes semi covered, but there was no way to hide her broken nose. Napoleon must had set it back for her, because it was straight again, but the split across the bridge of it made it obvious about what had happened.

       Deciding to make up a random story, Gaby went to her job at the small coffee shop down the street.

 

       It was the middle of the afternoon during one of their slower hours, when Gaby was standing in the back room, tossing back some aspirin.

       “Hey Gaby, someone is asking for you,” her coworker, Mia, yelled from the front.

       Gaby rolled her eyes, if it was the same creepy guy from the other day, she was going to lose it.

       “Who is it?” she yelled back as she tied her apron back on.

       Mia poked her head into the room, “I don’t know, but he’s handsome as hell.”

       Gaby laughed shortly, her nose throbbing from the action, “You think every guy is handsome.”

       “Well, this one is definitely my type,” Mia replied as Gaby passed her to stand behind the counter.

       When she finally moved from behind the machines to see who it was, Gaby’s breath caught in her throat.

       Illya stood casually with his hands in his suit pockets and a cut healing above his brow.

       Gaby had seen him get ready for work more times than she could count, but it still struck her how good he looked in a suit with his hair actually styled and his face shaven. But at the same time, when Gaby thought of him and her heart hurt, she was imagining him in jeans and a t shirt with a bloody mouth and untidy hair.

       Trying to order her mind, Gaby coughed and watched as Illya looked at her. His eyebrows furrowed together in concern at the sight of her barely covered bruises and broken nose.

       Illya opened his mouth when Gaby interrupted him, “Before you say something, I want you to know that you can’t change anything.”

       With a tired look, Illya nodded before mumbling, “Napoleon told me and I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

       Gaby rolled her eyes, “Wow, awesome apology. Did Napoleon also tell you what he told me?”

       Illya shook his head and Gaby almost didn’t want to tell him. He looked exhausted like the time when she used to watch him return home late at night. Not like he was getting too little of sleep exhausted, but more like life is killing him exhausted.

       Despite that, her heart twisted more at the memory of waking up alone and never getting to tell him what he meant to her.

       Gaby swallowed and let her anger take over.

       “He told me, and I quote, to get over it. He acted like I was the one who left you. Like I was the one that ruined our relationship, or whatever it was. So, with his advice, I’m going to do just that. I’ll get over it.”

       “Gaby,” Illya stepped up to the counter, only placing two feet between them.

       Biting her quivering lip, Gaby took a deep breath, “You did this, so I’m not going to apologize for anything.”

       A customer walked in then and Illya felt his heart speed up. He just needed another minute, one more second to hear her voice.

       Gaby stood up straight, “Please leave.”

       Illya’s face twisted into something heartbreaking before he turned away. Gaby watched him walk away and covered up the shaking in her voice as she spoke to the customer.

       Once the customer had their coffee, Gaby turned to go to the back room and Mia stood in her way.

       She smiled sympathetically, “I can cover for the rest of your shift.”

       Gaby tried to calm her breathing, “No it’s okay.”

       Mia shook her head, “You only have an hour left. I can handle it.”

       Nodding her head, Gaby thanked Mia and made it back home in record time.

       Clambering under the covers on her bed, Gaby closed her eyes and repeated the process of trying to forget everything.

 

       At some point, Gaby fell asleep and she awoke in the middle of the night to knocks on her front door. Pulling a large shirt over her underwear, she padded to the door and opened it. A bloody Illya almost collapsed on top of her before Gaby caught him, her recovering body screaming in protest.

       “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Gaby mumbled.

       She could barely make out Illya’s words when he spoke, “Vinciguerra. I won.”

       Gaby bit her lip, “You didn’t need-”

       “Gabriella? Are you okay?” the old woman from across the hall asked quietly from behind her cracked open door.

       Gaby peeked from around Illya and mistakenly waved a now bloody hand, “I’m fine.”

       The old woman’s eyes widened, “I’m calling the police.”

       “No, no, no! It’s okay! He’s my friend! He’s just been hurt,” Gaby hurriedly said and dragged Illya into her apartment, her foot shutting the door behind them.

       Gaby pulled a groaning Illya into her bedroom and placed him on her bed. Her old habits kicked in as she pulled off his jacket and shirt and looked for any open wounds. Finding none, Gaby went to the bathroom and grabbed a wet washcloth.

       When she returned, Illya’s eyes were flickering back open. Avoiding his gaze, Gaby began to wipe away the blood from his hands.

       Done with one hand, she was moving to the other when Illya grabbed her wrist. Finally meeting his eyes, Gaby frowned at the soft look in them.

       Releasing her wrist, Illya’s fingers inched up her arm, leaving a hot trail behind them. When they reached her neck, Gaby closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of his palm on her throat. She didn’t even know she was crying until he wiped away the tears.

       Illya murmured, “I’m sorry.”

       Gaby choked out, “I know, god, I know.”

       When his hand pulled her down to him, she didn’t fight back despite the aching in her healing ribs. After a heavy sigh, his needy mouth tugged on hers and they pulled at each other until they couldn’t breathe.

       After breaking apart, Illya pressed soft kisses to Gaby’s eyes as she cried. Gradually, they shifted under the covers together until Gaby was curled up to him, her kisses faint on his lips.

       His blood and cologne was seeping into the bed and his clothes were strewn on the floor. And Gaby was at his side. It was like he had never left.

       Once her tears dried and warm sleep began to take her, Gaby pushed herself as close as she could get to Illya.

       “Don’t go,” Gaby whispered.

       Illya closed his eyes. He couldn’t if he tried.

       “I’ll be here.”

 

       And when Gaby woke in the morning, he was there.

 

 


	3. When You Say You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaby couldn't be happier with Illya by her side. Everything seems to be going right until Napoleon is sent to the hospital. 
> 
> Music: Adore You by Miley Cyrus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID IT. I'm so so so so so sorry that this is ridiculously late, but Christmas happened and everything got messy and god, i needed sleep. I honestly wrote like the first 3/4 of this before christmas even started and then my brother came home and Star Wars came out and i went to it 5 times and then i was obsessed (and i still am). And after christmas, i had books that i wanted to read and so that took up a lot of time. I was hoping for a relaxing winter break and instead i got a ridiculously fast and packed full of shit break. Either way, I'm back :)
> 
> Anyway, this for everyone that loves this fic and has written wonderfully nice things to me about it. Thank you so much :)

     

* * *

 

       “Ugh, you’re soaking wet.”

       Gaby smiled before shaking her hair in Illya’s half-asleep face. Leaning back, she tightened her knees around his chest.

        Illya tried pulling the covers up and over his head, but Gaby yanked them back down and stretched herself across him. He received a face full of hair smelling of warm coconut as she wrapped her arms around him, her skin hot and smooth from the shower.

       Gaby kissed him lazily before crawling off to go find her skirt. Braiding her hair as she searched, she grinned when Illya groaned from underneath the covers.

       “What time is it?” he asked groggily.

       Finally pulling her skirt out of a pile of clothes, Gaby slid it on and zipped it up. Bobby-pinning some loose hair, she uncovered the left heel of her favorite pair of pumps. Now the problem was finding the other in her mess of an apartment.

       She glanced at her watch and answered him, “Almost 5:30.”

       “Fuck,” Illya moaned before moving farther under the covers.

       “Have you seen my other heel?” Gaby rifled through her pile of clean clothes and then moved to the dirty pile. At this rate, she was going to be late.

       Peeking out from under the blankets, Illya sighed, “It wasn’t in the first pile?”

       “Ha ha, so funny. I’m serious Illya, I’m going to be late.”

       “Why does a coffee shop need to open at 6:00 anyway?”

        Gaby huffed out a breath as she found the missing heel, “We have to be open for the people going to work at a normal time. I make most of my tips in the morning, and I can guarantee that Mrs. Bailey will be very angry if she doesn’t get her non-fat, triple shot, sugar-free caramel mocha. Which only I’m willing to make.”

        Illya grunted sleepily as Gaby ran out to her kitchen and grabbed a bagel. With the bagel in her mouth, she threw on a jacket and scarf and made her way back to her small bedroom. Illya was sitting up, his hair disheveled and his face just as confused. Ignoring him, Gaby grabbed the duffel bag near the bathroom. Checking to make sure her workout clothes and gloves were in it, she zipped it close and pulled it onto her shoulder.  

        Juggling her phone and bagel, Gaby leaned across the bed and pecked Illya’s lips, “Gotta go. Don’t do anything stupid.”

        Before she could turn away, Illya pulled her back and kissed her until she was out of breath. Her head spun when she leaned away and Illya’s warm hands cupped her neck.

        Flustered, Gaby tried to order her thoughts, “I can’t be late today.”

        Kissing her again, Illya begged with his blue eyes.

        Gaby almost gave in but finally managed to distance herself from him, “Nope. If I’m late then I have to stay later at work and then Waverly makes me do pushups and I hate pushups.”

        Just like every other time Gaby mentioned Waverly, Illya’s eyes turned to ice and his jaw tightened.

        Gaby nearly broke her ankle on another shoe as she stepped away from him, “Once again, don’t do anything stupid.”

        And with those words, she took one last look at him and left. This time she made sure to ingrain everything she had learned about him in the last couple months. Just in case he disappeared again.

 

        After a long day of complicated coffee orders and then extra pushups from Waverly for being 10 minutes late, Gaby returned to her apartment that evening and without taking in her surroundings, she fell onto the couch. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her split lip throbbed where a young boy had hit her on accident. It was a successful day though. The tip jar had been overflowing before noon and Waverly had smiled at her when she won her first match. She couldn’t describe the pride she had felt.

        Gaby was smiling to herself, her eyes shut quietly, when a pair of hands began to unbutton her jacket.

        “Tough day?” Illya’s voice was low.

        Humming a yes, Gaby followed the sound of his voice and blindly reached her hands up to his face. Expecting his stubble and soft lips, she was shocked to feel a lump forming at the corner of his mouth. Whipping her eyes open, Gaby sat up and stared at Illya. He looked perfectly normal with his tie loose around his neck and his hair brushed, but the edge of his mouth was bruising and red.

         Gaby opened her mouth, poisonous words prepared, but Illya cut her off, “Some guys were trying to mug a kid on my way to work today. It got a little rough.”

         Relaxing, Gaby nodded before pointing at her own lip, “We’re a matching set.”

         Ignoring her teasing smile, Illya stood up, his expression stony, and walked into the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, Gaby got up to follow him and stopped abruptly as she looked around her apartment. The piles of clothes and shoes were organized nicely in her closet and the empty bottles of vodka and loose condoms had been put away. The kitchen was spotless and without having to look, Gaby was sure that the bathroom would look just as clean.

        Turning to Illya, Gaby let out a short laugh, “Did you do this?”

        Shrugging, he didn’t respond. His eyes were still troubled.

        Gaby crossed her arms, “Thank you, but I’m still going to that gym whether you clean my apartment or not.”

        Illya stuck his hands into the pockets of his dark pants, “You shouldn’t trust Waverly.”

        “Why?” Gaby scoffed, “You’ve told me that multiple times but still you have no reason for it.”

        “Why can’t you just trust me?” Illya questioned, his shoulders rising.

        Gaby tried to hold it in, but it had been waiting to come out for months, “Because you left me? Don’t you remember? I’ve been trying so fucking hard for these past months, but this whole secret thing about Waverly is not helping!”

        “It’s not a secret! You know that he kicked me and Napoleon out, just because of some bruises!”

        Stepping forward, Gaby wished she had her heels on so she didn’t have to look up as much, “Bruises? You always had broken or cracked ribs and cuts needing stitches. And I’ll never forget that god damn knife wound.”

        Illya stood up straighter, “And Waverly thought that kicking us out would help. Brilliant idea. We had nowhere else to go.”

        Holding in her frustration, Gaby answered calmly, “You had me.”

        Illya swallowed and suddenly his anger was gone, “I know.”

        Moving to him, Gaby reached up and pressed her hand to his cheek, “I’m not going anywhere. I just…I need this.”

        “If it’s protection you need then you have me. There’s no need for Waverly’s training,” he murmured back.

       Gaby stepped away, “No, I have to defend myself. You have to understand that. I’m with you no matter what, but I’m also my own person. I need the comfort of knowing that if I’m ever alone again then I will survive.”

        Illya nodded slowly before smirking, “With the mess you live in, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.”

        Smacking his arm, Gaby replied lightly, “Since when are you a neat freak?”

        “When you live with Napoleon, you kind of end up being one,” Illya relaxed against the counter.

        Gaby smiled before looking around her apartment one more time. Outside the windows, snow was beginning to fall and the city lights were reflecting off the flakes. Turning back to Illya, she bit her lip and ignored the sting of her cut reopening.

        Starting out slow, Gaby mumbled, “What if…I mean if you want…you move in with me?”

        Illya’s hands came out of his pockets as he stared at Gaby.

        Feeling her face heat up, Gaby began to stammer, “You’re here most nights anyway and I’m sure Napoleon wants his bachelor pad back-”

        Illya quickly shut her up with a kiss. When he pulled away, he gave a quick nod before diving back in. Gaby laughed into his mouth as he lifted her onto the counter. She removed his tie hurriedly and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. After his shirt hit the ground, he pressed his mouth back against hers, a smile stretched across his face.

        This time, he was the one massaging out all the knots and kinks in her body.

 

       It was the middle of December and Gaby was terribly sick. She had turned down all of Illya’s offers to stay home with her, but she finally agreed to him coming home for lunch in order to check up on her.

       Ever since he moved in, he had been extra loving and quite different from the man Gaby had first met. She was not complaining, but at times she felt guilty for missing the days when she took care of him, not the other way around. Either way, Gaby was happy to have him worry so much over a simple bout of the flu.

       So honoring his word, Illya appeared at lunch with soup and medicine for her. However, with strong words, Gaby insisted on him leaving before catching the sickness. Which he countered with an explanation on his Russian immune system and how it isn’t weak enough to get the flu. Despite that, Gaby still managed to get him to leave quickly and she ended up in her bed with Netflix running and blankets piled on top of her.

      It was growing dark when Gaby received a text from Illya saying he was going to be coming home late. The news pleased her as she clicked the next episode of a show she had been watching nonstop all day.

      When Gaby crawled out of her nest of blankets for the first time in hours, it was late in the evening. She had just shuffled into the kitchen to make herself some tea when deafening knocks pounded on her front door. Dropping her mug, Gaby jumped back as it shattered on the floor.

      The knocks sounded again and this time a voice shouted, “KURYAKIN! I know you are in there! I saw you and that girl come in here! I never would’ve guessed you were fucking her!”

      Gaby’s heart hammered in her chest as she recognized the voice belonging to Vinciguerra. Thinking of her training, she was moving to the door when she remembered. She remembered her bones aching from the beating she received from him. She recalled the sound of her nose breaking, the metallic flavor of her blood, and the bruises lining her body like constellations. Even with months of training, Gaby wasn’t sure she could hold her own against him, especially in her weakened state. At that thought, fear dropped into her stomach and she hated herself as she began to shake.

      “Come on! Where have you been? Too scared to face me? If you don’t come out, I’m coming in!” Vinciguerra pounded on the door.

      Panicking, Gaby ran to her bedroom and began digging through the blankets looking for her phone. Once she had a hold of it, she immediately called Illya’s number and tried to block out the shouted threats and booming knocks.

       He picked up after a few rings, “Hey, I’m busy. Can I call you back?”

      Gaby leaped into the bathroom and shut the door before answering frantically, “Illya, Vinciguerra is at the apartment. He’s yelling and threatening to break down the door.”

       Illya’s voice grew serious fast, “What? Hide. I’m coming over right now.”

       “No no! Don’t get involved. I’m going to call the police,” Gaby whispered.

       “Do not do that. The fight club is illegal and we’ll be in just as much trouble. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

       He hung up and Gaby’s hands shook as she sat in the bathtub, listening to sounds at her front door. It felt like an eternity before it grew quiet.

       Taking a deep breath, Gaby stood up and opened the bathroom door. Grabbing the baseball bat from beside her bed, she stepped out into the living room and found the front door still locked. Moving cautiously toward it, she nearly had a heart attack when the door rattled and flew open. Gaby had the bat raised above her when Illya stepped through, his chest heaving from running. When his eyes connected with hers, Gaby lowered the bat and Illya moved to her instantly, his arms around her in a second. Letting him hold her, Gaby breathed in his cologne and felt a crippling helplessness settle in her bones.

       She had just taken a shaky breath when she noticed Illya’s silent demeanor. Looking up at his face, she watched him clench his jaw. She could feel his hands trembling on her hips and before she could say anything, he had turned from her and marched to the front door.

       Remembering those same eyes from the night he left her, Gaby choked out, “Illya.”

       Illya paused at the door, his suit looking more rumpled than it should. Gaby could see his fingers tapping against the wood.

       Biting her lip to keep it from quivering, Gaby whispered, “Please. Don’t go.”

       Illya looked at her and his eyes returned to their regular calm appearance. His hands still shivered, but it was more controlled.

       Gaby felt like the world sat on her shoulders as he watched her, “I couldn’t do it. I’ve trained for months so I would never feel like this again and yet here I am. I couldn’t even think straight. I cowered in that god damn bathroom.”

       Gaby dropped the bat and before it could hit the ground, Illya was back in front of her.

       Illya’s voice was deeper than usual, “You’re not weak.”

       “What happens when you leave? And I’m alone again? I’ll never be able to take care of myself,” Gaby shook her head.

       Placing his hands on Gaby’s face, Illya muttered seriously, “I’m not going anywhere.”

       Gaby began to shake her head and Illya moved closer, “God damn it Gaby, listen to me. I’m not going to leave you.”

       When she looked into his eyes, Gaby believed him.

 

                    

        It was the first time Gaby had someone to share the holidays with. She had spent years by herself, trying to find her way in New York, but Illya easily broke her depressing holiday routine. The usual bottles of wine and takeout Chinese food in her fridge were replaced with home cooked meals. A little tree sat in the corner and strings of lights stretched across the ceiling. It was more than Gaby thought she deserved.

        So when the week of Christmas came up, Gaby was surprised to find herself singing to Christmas music as she prepared for Napoleon’s holiday party. Turning up the music, Gaby ignored Illya’s complaints about the noise before climbing into the shower.

       She had barely been under the water for a couple minutes when Illya stepped into the shower with her. Testing the water with a hand, Illya smiled as he joined her under the stream. He didn’t speak before kissing her slowly, his hands and mouth needy but patient.

        Sighing, Gaby traced the curve of his back and shoulders, memorizing the muscles and scars lining them. She could remember when his body was littered with bruises and she had to slide her hands delicately over him, but now she could dig her nails in without worrying about reopening a wound.

        So as Illya lifted her against the wall, Gaby held on tightly and lowered her head to leave marks along his neck. She never got her chance as Illya’s phone began to ring out in the bedroom.

        Gaby growled into Illya’s neck, “I swear to god if that is your boss calling you in...”

        Illya’s voice was low, “Just ignore it.”

       Continuing his kisses along her chest, Illya dipped his fingers in between Gaby’s thighs, eliciting a moan from her as the phone quieted.

       Gaby moved her mouth on Illya’s hurriedly and tightened her legs around his waist when the phone began ringing again.

       Dropping her arms, Gaby yanked on Illya’s lips once more before he let her down. Illya groaned angrily as he climbed out of the shower and turned off the Christmas music. Gaby immediately changed to cold water in order to chill her heated body as she listened to Illya pick up the phone. His Russian accent seemed more prominent than usual as he spoke.

       “Hello…yes…yes…I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

       Gaby frowned before peeking out from behind the shower curtain and finding Illya standing frozen, his boxers pulled on hastily over his dripping body.

       “What’s going on?” Gaby asked curiously.

       Illya lowered his phone and ended the call before turning to her, his face distraught, “It’s Napoleon.”

 

       Gaby had no idea she could dress so quickly as her and Illya arrived at the hospital across town in a half an hour. Hurried words were exchanged with the receptionist and Gaby chased after Illya as he rushed to a specified room.

       Arriving at the room, Illya ignored the nurse and immediately moved to the bed where Napoleon was unconscious.

       Gaby trailed behind him and watched as he stood next to the bed. Napoleon’s face was black and blue and oxygen was being fed to him through tubes. His heart rate monitor beeped in a slow tempo, making the scene more surreal. Illya frowned at Napoleon’s unconscious face, his eyes upset.

       Feeling her breath get caught in her chest, Gaby stepped out of the room and turned her back. Breathing through her nose, she moved to the small reception area where another man was already speaking to the nurse. As Gaby came closer, she began to recognize the voice.

       Cutting into the conversation, Gaby touched the man’s elbow and asked, “Waverly?”

       Sure enough, Waverly turned to her, his eyes dark with worry, “Oh Gaby, why are you here?”

       “Napoleon,” Gaby answered easily.

       Waverly turned to her, an enlightened expression on his face, “So I was right. You and Illya?”

       Gaby shifted on her feet, “It doesn’t matter. Illya is here. You should talk to him.”

       “He won’t want to see me. I should go anyway.”

       Gaby held her hand out in front of him, “No, you have to talk to Illya and figure this mess out. Why are you here anyway?”

       Waverly adjusted his glasses before replying, “I found him.”

       “What happened?” Gaby moved closer to him, her voice low.

       “When I found him, he was beaten half to death…broken ribs, collapsed lung. I knew it was that damn club. He was only able to tell me a name,” Waverly paused and glanced behind Gaby, “He said Alexander. That’s it.”

       Gaby frowned. She didn’t know the name. Looking at Waverly, she followed his troubled gaze to Napoleon’s room where Illya stood in the doorway. As she watched, his entire demeanor changed. She knew the signs of his episodes that seemed to be happening more and more often. Before she could ask him about the name, he rushed from the room to the stairwell, ignoring the warnings from the nurses. Gaby glanced at Waverly before taking off after him, her legs running double the distance of Illya’s long strides.

       Completely out of breath, Gaby finally caught up to him in the main lobby of the building and shouted, “Where are you going?”

       Illya yelled over his shoulder angrily, “Vinciguerra!”

       Trying to glue everything together, Gaby slowly connected the two names. She didn’t waste a second before sprinting back to Napoleon’s room. Waverly stood silently in the room, his eyes glued to the floor.

       She heaved out the question between breaths, “Where did you find him?”

       Waverly muttered, “I’m not going to tell you.”

       Gaby curled her hands into fists, “Grow the fuck up, Waverly. I need to know. Illya is going there and I’m the only one who can keep him from getting killed. Tell. Me.”

       He finally met Gaby’s glare, “I’m sure Illya can handle himself.”

       Her frustration rose, “I know he can, but so could Napoleon and look where he is. Now tell me.”

       Waverly let out a deep breath, “Napoleon’s apartment.”

       Gaby sighed in relief. Waverly shook his head, “He won’t be there. I’m betting he’s with the club.”

       Feeling her heart drop, Gaby frowned, “I don’t know where they’re meeting.”

       Waverly mumbled, “The old theater. I know their whole rotation. Tonight, they’re at the old theater.”

       Not questioning why Waverly knew the location, Gaby ran out of the hospital and hailed a cab. Her leg jiggled nervously during the entire ride and she was almost tempted to throw the driver out with how slow he was driving. Her mind circulated around images of lllya lying in the bed next to Napoleon. Another Christmas spent alone. She wouldn’t be able to stand it.

       When the driver finally pulled up to the theater, Gaby quickly handed him money and leaped out into the cold. She found the propped door and followed the raised voices, her heart pounding.

       Unlike before, there were no guards and the cheers seemed unbearably loud. Making her way into the crowded room, Gaby shoved through the people and jumped for a better view. After smacking men out of the way, she was completely out of breath by the time she reached the clearing in the middle.

       Feeling her chest tighten, Gaby recognized Vinciguerra as Illya slammed his fists into him. She felt an odd feeling of joy at the sight before she noticed Illya’s heaving chest and troubled expression. When she imagined him fighting, she pictured him with a blank but confident look, but this was entirely different. There was something broken about the way he held his shoulders and the way his hands seemed to move on their own.

       The scene sent shivers down Gaby’s spine and fear trickled into her chest. She couldn’t watch anymore.

       Trying to push a man out of her way, Gaby managed to shout, “Illya!”

       For a second, Illya paused in his punches and Vinciguerra took advantage of it. He quickly took the upper hand in the fight as Illya hit the ground. His fists were a blur as they hit Illya relentlessly. Illya’s head smacked the ground a couple times and Gaby caught her breath each time.

       Gaby watched one, two, three kicks to Illya’s body before she finally woke herself up and shoved her way into the clearing. Vinciguerra looked up right as she stepped over Illya and slammed her fist into his jaw.

       In a split second, the cheers fell to background noise as Gaby set her feet and nailed him with another punch. Compared to last time, she felt all of her training reside in her body. When Vinciguerra threw a punch at her, she easily avoided it and countered with a solid hit to his gut. He was able to connect a few of his punches, but Gaby had been used to being hit. She had learned to take a punch and the pain only increased her adrenaline. For a split second, she understood why Napoleon and Illya did it. Every time her knuckles slide across his body, she felt a jolt of pride in herself. But when her foot brushed up against Illya’s body, the feeling was instantly gone. This way of life caused more pain than anything else and Gaby was through dealing with it.

       With a kick to his legs, Vinciguerra fell to his knees. Furiously, Gaby yanked him up by his collar and landed one last punch. As his unconscious body hit the ground, the cheering finally registered in Gaby’s ears. Gaby heaved out a large breath and ignored the throbbing in her hands as she turned back to Illya. Unknown hands patted her back until she reached Illya’s side.

       Dropping to her knees, Gaby cradled his head in her lap and wiped the blood away from his broken nose.

       His eyes flickering open, Illya smirked painfully and ran his thumb across her split lip. His Russian accent was muddled, “Thank you.”

       Gaby nodded, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she remembered the first time he said that to her months and months ago. She knew those two words meant more than gratitude. She was prepared to hear them for the rest of her life.

       “You’re welcome.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was re-watching Daredevil and I totally forgot about how much I fucking love Claire and Matt. So this happened. I was going to do this whole thing about a fight club that Napoleon and Illya were a part of, but it ended up being this angsty gallya thing. I quite like it actually.


End file.
